


Side-Tales of the Skele-Nanny

by Lavender_chan



Series: Skeleton Nanny [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, extra chapters, i'll link it tho, more tags to come, side tales, you really won't understand unless you read the fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-07-24 00:23:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16169789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavender_chan/pseuds/Lavender_chan
Summary: Companion chapters toAdventures of a Skele-Nanny





	1. Gaster's POV (Chapter 12)

Gaster had always anticipated that Sans would likely inherit the ability to Teleport when his magic started to mature. There was even a part of him that was extremely proud at how early it was manifesting. Most monster children were still barely forming bullets by the time they started school. Sans could do it when pressed, but the boy was much more laid back than Gaster had ever come to expect.

Because of how Sans was born, Gaster had often wondered what sort of personality the boy would have. Would he be a carbon copy of Gaster? If not, what traits would he pick up? What parts of magic?

Being a master of Perseverance magic, Gaster had been able to unlock his potential in all colors of soul magic--something no other monster had ever thought to achieve. This provided him with limitless potential and a part of him had hoped Sans would pick that up.

Gaster looked down at his hands, his fingers traced the wide holes; a part of him expected to wince--they had hurt for years after he had done the procedure himself--but no pain came.

There was a lot he had learned when Sans was born. A lot he had to live with. He had done better when he decided to try again with Papyrus, but a part of Gaster’s soul would always wish he had done more for Sans.

“i can’t do it, dad,” Sans fell back onto his bottom and put his head in his hands and rested his elbows on his knees, “it’s too hard.”

Gaster wondered if fatigue would haunt Sans forever, or if this was simply a child faced with his first real failure in control.

Sans certainly looked frustrated. Every time before this, Sans had teleported by accident. His trip from his classroom into the lunchroom was the first of a few stunts over the course of this week and by Friday, you had informed him that Ms. Verona was very adamant that Sans needed to learn some form of control--even if it was simply keeping the ability from accidentally revealing itself.

The idea that his son could only ‘turn it off’ was laughable at best. Sans would gain control, the same as any other monster child, even if the ability was somewhat unusual.

Still, he took a moment to study the boy. Sans only had 1 HP, and with that came a lowered stamina and Gaster wondered if he was already at his limit. Sans didn’t _appear_ to be, but Gaster had already noticed (mostly thanks to your ever intrusive observations) that one thing Sans had certainly inherited from Gaster was the tendency to internalize.

Even knowing that, Gaster could see that Sans was fine, so he decided to take a different approach.

Gaster stepped around Sans and sat behind the small child. He was always tiny--Toriel had been terrified of harming Sans when Gaster first brought him home--but Gaster never noticed it more than when the boy was close to him. A reminder of his own failings, but also of Sans’s simply ability at taking the world as it was. He simply let whatever the world threw at him, and let it roll off his back; an ability that even many adults could not replicate.

Sans eagerly leaned back into Gaster’s lap and rested his head on his father’s stomach. The boy loved to receive affection through touch and Gaster often wondered if he somehow accidentally starved the boy of it when he was an infant. He wasn’t sure how--if Gaster wasn’t holding him, than someone else was. Perhaps a simple quirk of Sans’s own personality.

“Sans,” Gaster sighed and gently rested his hand on top of Sans’s head, “Do you think it’s easy for me to work all day and then come home to raise you and Papyrus?”

If Gaster wouldn’t have been so intent on Sans, he might have noticed the way your gaze suddenly shot over to him, or the way your body tensed, but his focus was elsewhere. Sans, instead of looking hurt at the implication, looked thoughtful.

A child as smart as Sans always thought about the questions that he was asked, even if the intent behind them was malicious--another trait Gaster could see in them both.

It took Sans a moment to answer, but he finally said, “well, you hired nanny zelda, so i guess not?”

 

Gaster replied immediately, “That’s right; I needed help because I wanted to do right by you and by Papyrus. Raising children is not easy. The work I do is not easy. But this is important, Sans and always remember that.”

Sans turned in his lap to look up into Gaster’s face. The child’s eye lights were wide and curious, but more than that, Gaster could see the the wheels working in Sans’s mind. Gaster continued, to help the cogs along.

“Anything worth doing, is worth putting the work in,” Gaster said, “And there’s no way around it. If it isn’t worth it to you, then you won’t work for it.”

“but why can’t it be easy?” Sans grumbled.

“It’s simply the nature of things, Sans,” Gaster pulled the boy into a gentle hug, and he let his eyes wander over the yard as he continued, “Sometimes, the easy way may seem the best way--and I won’t say it’s always the wrong choice to make; but you must know when it is time to roll up your sleeves and do the work. You must remember that the hard road will often be the right one.”

If there was one thing he wanted to teach Sans, it was to always put everything into what he loved to do--at this point, he’d even accept it if Sans simply threw everything into school, or even his love of space. Even a part of him knew that if Sans decided to not pursue a higher form of science--or science at all--he could never hope for less than the best for Sans.

Sans and Gaster’s attentions were drawn away from their moment together by Papyrus.

“NANZEE!” Papyrus exclaimed, “NANZEE BLOCKAH!”

You snorted and handed Papyrus another block, “You know, I think I’m onto your game, bittybones; I bet it’ll just take one more sour day in this house and you’ll be walking.”

Gaster glanced down as Sans snorted and shoved his hands into his pockets, “paps is just cool like that.”

Sans leaned into his father’s arms while Gaster absently played with your theory. As playfully as you said it, Gaster wondered if you weren’t actually on to something. Papyrus had certainly picked an interesting time to begin, not only in words, but full sentences. There was certainly something purposeful about it that made your words stick in Gaster’s mind.

Papyrus had always been pretty keyed into how he and Sans were feeling, even as a newborn. There was a large part of Gaster that wondered if Papyrus had started sleeping through the night simply because he was able to understand how exhausted Gaster was by the end of it.

His eyes, almost naturally, slid from Papyrus to you. A sudden thumb in his soul made a warmth begin to spread over his ribcage as he watched you smile and help Papyrus stack another row of blocks on whatever creation Papyrus was happily constructing.

The way you handled his children--with patience, kindness, care and _love_ \--made the warm feeling spread. He couldn’t be 100% sure where this feeling was coming from, but it was certainly centered around you.

Gaster’s thoughts were interrupted as Sans suddenly spoke, “ok, dad; i’m ready to try again.”

“That’s my boy, Sans,” Gaster smiled and helped them both to their feet to continue their practice.

~*~

Gaster shuffled papers in his lap, trying to connect the points of data even as he tried to ignore the shuffling around him. He spared you a glance when you finally settled onto the couch next to his chair, and felt a sliver of amusement as witnessed your hands move while your eyes were elsewhere.

The work never seemed to be over for you, despite your insistence that your ‘shift’ was over once both children were asleep. Even now, while your eyes were glued to the television, your hands worked automatically at folding laundry that was efficiently sorted into different piles with only a glance from you.

His eyes wandered over your hands as you folded and sorted. Your fingers were delicate and articulate and he couldn’t help but wonder of your skin was as soft and smooth as it looked. He pressed his mouth closed as he caught himself wondering just what the folds of skin at your knuckles felt like.

He had to get his mind elsewhere.

“Hmm,” found himself humming as he forced his mind toward more clinical matters.

Just like he expected, you muted the tv and your eyes darted over to him with a small, knowing smile quirked at the corner of your lips, ““Need something, Gaster?”

“I simply made an observation while watching you,” Gaster said easily and he watched your smile grow just a little more. Your lips certainly were a wonder all their own--and he was once again delving into unknown territory in his thoughts; just why couldn’t he focus?

“Oh? Do tell,” You replied and he was able to snap back now that conversation was flowing.

“For someone who goes out of their way to tell me how much I overwork myself,” Gaster’s lips twitched up in a smirk when you turned to raise an eyebrow at him--teasing you was certainly too easy most of the time, “You certainly do more than I thought to expect.”

You snorted, a sound that made his own lips curl into a larger smile, “What does that mean? What exactly did you expect?”

“I expected what anyone would expect in terms of a job: strict hours, talk of vacation or days off, benefits, coverage,” He listed these off quickly as he built up to a point, “And yet you have adhered to none of the expectation you laid out or that I had for this position.”

There was a few moments of silence as Gaster watched you mull over what he said; your hands never ceased their movements as you continued to fold. He absently wondered if you realized he was mostly talking about laundry, but there was so much more you did even when the boys weren’t around. He had seen the spread out lesson plans and outing ideas that you sometimes left on the dining room table overnight. He’d seen the shopping lists that always included Sans’s messy handwriting on the bottom as you encouraged him to learn about sales tax and budgeting.

Even when you weren’t with the boys, you were thinking of them. Could you really only think of this as a job? He often found himself wondering--maybe even hoping?--that you truly cared, that this wasn’t simply a job.

Was that wrong? To want more from you than what the two of you originally agreed upon?

“Well, I keep to it as much as I always have, I guess,” You shrugged and your hands slowed in their work, “Being a live-in Nanny isn’t a usual job, anyway.”

The pang of disappointment his soul felt was overshadowed immediately by the look on your face. You seemed just as unsure about saying it as he felt unsure about hearing it. You didn’t seem convinced and rather, you had rattled off a script that you might have given to another parent at a different time.

Gaster had to press more. He had to see how unsure you really were that this was simply the norm.

“Is that why you find yourself doing laundry after your designated hours?” He chuckled--because even with the warring feelings in his soul, he was still teasing you--and sat back in his chair.

Even as you fought the smile trying to pull up the corners of your mouth, Gaster reveled in being able to pull it out so easily; your words were still said in a playful huff, “ _You_ find time to do laundry while balancing both of those boys’ needs, Wing Dings Gaster. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you have certainly let _yours_ pile up, now that you don’t have to worry about keeping the boys’ clothes clean.”

Gaster shrugged nonchalantly, “Well, I’m sure if I left it long enough, you would-”

His eyes had been sweeping the room--a playful show of nonchalance for the sake of the playful banter the two of you shared--and so he didn’t see what hit his head until his head snapped to look and a pair of socks fell onto the chair over his shoulder. You had _thrown a pair of socks_ at him.

He could barely hold back the laughter rising in his throat as you spoke with a put-on indignation that didn’t match the simple joy on your face.

“Oh no, you hired a nanny for your _children_ ,” You snorted and started to laugh as you spoke--the sound was music to him, “If you wanted a nanny for yourself, go get a girlfriend.”

And then the dam broke and the two of you were laughing. Stars, when was the last time he had laughed like this? Had there been a time in recent memory when his feelings hadn’t been simple amusement and quiet chuckles? Yet here you were, drawing him into unbalanced emotions that left his sides aching and his soul dancing in his ribcage.

“I can’t believe the _great Dr. Gaster_ is trying to pawn off his laundry,” Your voice carried over the room as the two of you continued to laugh quietly at the idea of it and Gaster saw you stand, likely with the intent of retrieving your ammunition.

He reached across his chest for it at the same time that you suddenly leaned over him and he felt his soul stutter to a stop when his fingers touched yours.

The touch was liquid electricity, and shot up his arm with an intent and purpose--like it was alive and seeking to burn everything in its path toward his very soul. His eyes locked with yours automatically and he was drawn into the rich color, even as yours darted back and forth between his own in a steady rhythm that he could almost match to the beating of your heart beneath the skin of your hand. The two of you seemed locked in a moment, with only air and breath between you.

Gaster couldn’t pull away. He couldn’t look away. Everything in this moment, everything in this _reality_ suddenly condensed into nothing more than the space between you. It all sat upon a razors edge, and Gaster was suddenly sure that whichever way it tipped, there was something he couldn’t escape. Some obtainable truth that he wanted to reach for, even as he watched the color fill your cheeks--even as his eyes trailed down to your lips and then darted back up to your eyes.

Everything in him wanted to pull you forward into his lap, to close the space between you and let reality collapse with it. His soul hammered in his chest and if he had been given another few moments, he was sure he would have done it.

Except he wasn’t given a few moments. Your voice suddenly seemed to catch up with the both of you, and he was brought back to nothing more than the way your smooth skin felt as you pulled away.

“Thanks,” You said, and you took the socks with you.

“...Of course.” Gaster replied, even as you resumed your position on the couch and unmuted the television.

Gaster never slept much to begin with--it was a trait he and Papyrus shared, though he still made ample time for the child to rest quietly--but tonight, Gaster wondered if he’d find sleep at all.

All he could think about was how smooth your skin had felt--smoother, he thought, then anything he had ever touched before--and the deep color of your eyes. They had drawn him in, like a spell, and left him craving another close contact. Craving _more_.

He turned over in his bed and tried not to let his dreams wander toward the feeling of soft lips and smooth delicate fingers folding over his bones, but it was all that would haunt him that night.


	2. Gaster's POV (Chapters 15-18) Part 1/3

If Gaster had allowed himself to be honest, rather than blindly hoped for the best, maybe the attack that ruined Papyrus’s birthday wouldn’t have caught all of them as such a surprise. He wasn’t naive enough to hope that the attack would never have happened, but maybe things could have been a little different. Maybe Gaster would have noticed the suspicious van that was still running near the restaurant, with both of it’s visible seats empty. Maybe Gaster wouldn’t have been so unaware of his surroundings. Maybe, maybe, maybe…

It couldn’t be helped to dwell on it.

The fact was, when he carried Papyrus to the bathroom, he was only aware of the fussing infant in his arms. Papyrus, despite his dramatic nature, was hardly ever inconsolable. Later, Gaster would ponder on it--wonder if, maybe Papyrus had sensed something was wrong long before things had turned for the worst--but at that moment, all Gaster could wonder was what had upset the small child so badly in the first place. It wasn’t until Papyrus had calmed enough for Gaster to leave the bathroom that the tall monster realized something was wrong.

The horrific scream from the kitchen drew him immediately.

“Grannon, what-”

Two humans, both holding metal buckets, stood over the fire monster; their victim was on the floor in a large puddle of water and ice and his body was mostly hidden by brown billowing smoke. Gaster’s mind went blank for a moment, until the two humans turned toward him and Papyrus began to shriek. The only thing Gaster could process at that moment was that Papyrus was in danger, and his magic reacted.

Gaster summoned the 6 cores of magic that he had mastered--each a glowing light in the center of a different conjured, disembodied hand--while his two physical hands encased Papyrus in a bright glowing green shield, which cut off the child’s shrieking instantly. The two humans scurried for makeshift weapons: one grabbed a large knife, and the other, a hot pan. Food hit the floor, but the two humans were quickly lifted and slammed against the far wall, where they fell in a heap. Gaster quickly lifted Grannon and winced with the fire elemental groaned weakly. The humans struggled against has magic, but he paid them no heed as he moved Grannon away from the spilled water and gently placed him against a wall.

“Hold on, my friend,” Gaster started to step away from the swinging door that lead back into the short hallway it shared with the bathrooms, but Grannon waved him away. At first, Gaster had a thought that Grannon was trying to swat the smoke away (it was billowing off his body even faster than before and Gaster could only partially see the scarring that was already sure to cover most of his body from the water…), but he was distracted by Sans’s voice.

“dad! dad, come quick!”

Gaster turned, a thorn of fear piercing his heart. Sans was holding tightly to Grillby’s hand, practically dragging the older teen through the hallway near them.

“Father!” Grillby tried to rush around Gaster, but he blocked the kitchen with his body. Gaster quickly looked toward the two humans, but he just saw them slip out the back door with a loud CLANG. Grillby shoved past while Gaster was distracted.

“G-go to your mother!” Grannon sounded weary and weak, but Grillby refused to move.

“Sans, where-”

“zeezee’s in trouble!” Sans was trying to be calm, but the pure terror on his face simply made Gaster’s soul run cold.

“Dammit Grillby, where’s your mother!”

“I’m here,” Tillby’s flames flickered in a nervous way, but Gaster let her slip by him; she was obviously fleeing and Gaster saw a human trying to follow. His blue magic activated again and Gaster threw him back into the restaurant proper, where he could now hear the chaos of fighting and screaming.

“Sans, how did you make it over here?” Their usual booth was on the opposite end of the restaurant.

“i used a shortcut,” Sans hiccuped and grabbed Gaster’s pant leg and tried to pull him frantically. Gaster realized that Sans must have brought Grillby with him without realizing it, but he knew he had to focus and quickly. The sounds grew louder.

“Sans, stay behind me,” Gaster kept his shield over Papyrus--the safest place for the infant, all things considered--before he stepped around his oldest son and headed into the diner.

People were cowered under tables, while monsters struggled against two humans. There weren’t any encounters that Gaster could see, and that was important. No dust, was even more so. A human suddenly leapt over a table and tackled another human and the two wrestled on the ground--Gaster had no way of knowing which was a threat.

His eyes drew over to a pair of monsters--a Froggit and an Icecap--who were trying to distract another human. This one was being pushed back toward the front door by the white bullets shaped like ice and flies, cursing monsters loudly as he moved.

Gaster’s light blue magic sang quietly in his soul while blue bones suddenly jutted up around him in the form of a cage. The human fell to the ground and Gaster added a few over his head to keep him on the floor.

A gaster blaster appeared at a whim as the two humans separated their scuffle on the ground. Gaster saw a Pyrope jump in front of one human in defense, so his blaster began to approach the other human.

“H-hey! B-back off!” The human practically whimpered as he knocked over a table in a booth and scooted back against the wall. Gaster felt the energy in the diner start to sway as the gaster blaster prepared to fire, but he held back, only because his attention was immediately drawn to Sans.

The boy was screaming--the loudest Gaster had ever heard Sans be--and running toward their usual booth.

“zeezee!”

What Gaster saw nearly made him lose his grip on his magic and obliterate every human in the diner.

A man, twice as large as you, was straddling your thighs with his hands gripped tightly around your throat. He wore a dark colored jumpsuit and his head was covered in a hood, but Gaster wasn’t focused on what he looked like. He was too focused on you.

On the way your aura--the radiance of your soul that every human had, that shone close to the skin if one knew where to look--was starting to fade. You were dying. Everything that you are and were and could become...about to be snuffed out. Like a candle that had yet to begin burning.

Gaster growled, deep in his chest and his dark blue magic flared. It ripped the man from you, and slammed him heavily into the ceiling. If dark blue magic had stood for any other trait, if he couldn’t feel the pairing of Integrity that always flowed in him when he used this color of magic, then he might have killed the three humans he had trapped by his magic. As it was, the gaster blaster nearly let loose it’s cannon, and the bones closed in, just a fraction closer to the trapped man.

It was a near thing. His own discipline and Integrity were the only things that saved these men. That, and the way you flipped over to cough violently into the floor. A sign of verdant life; Sans shook you and cried, but you were alive.

Alive.

“zeezee,” Sans’s voice was thick from his tears, but Gaster listened intently for your answer, “zee, pl-please be okay!”

“I-I’m-” Gaster winced. You sounded like your voice was suddenly made of gravel in a blender, or that you maybe had gargled glass.

You had to cough and hack again and Gaster felt the cool rage beginning to stir in his chest again. Maybe three humans _would_ end up dying. The gravity on the man against the ceiling increased again and Gaster heard him groan from the strain.

“Wh...where’s...S-Sans, where’s-”

“grillby’s with his mom; i-i had to get d-dad. i didn’t know...,” Sans replied to your rough question. It almost hurt to hear you speak, but you still did it as you tried to comfort Sans.

“I-it’s okay…” You were finally getting up off the ground and Gaster started to feel his chest ease again. Your eyes frantically searched the area and he realized you were likely searching for your attacker, even as you focused on the minute details of the diner.

“G-gaster?” You choked and sat back on your heels; as soon as you were steady, Sans threw himself into your arms and held you tightly. When you held the boy back, Gaster finally started to feel the tight coil of fear in his chest begin to unwind, slowly.

“Zelda,” You jumped when Gaster said your first name, “Are you unharmed?”

It was a stupid question, but he could already see your body listing to one side; he needed you to focus, to keep yourself in the here and now. He _needed_ you to be okay.

You swallowed, “I-I’m okay.”

Hearing you say that while your voice still barely worked made his teeth grit together before he asked again, as evenly as he could, “Are you _unharmed_?”

“I…”

Gaster watched as your hand rose to your throat. He didn’t need to see you wince--the ring of bruises was already bright around your throat; Integrity be damned, it was simply the fact that the human police showed up that kept the man on the ceiling from breaking through the ceiling and falling into the sky.

From there Gaster would have been content with either outcome: either his magic wouldn’t reach and he would fall to the earth again, or the man would continue to fall upward until the cold fingers of space greeted him. The human police did show up, though, and the man was spared such a fate by mere moments.

The next few minutes were a blur of comforting Sans and keeping Papyrus safe. In truth, Gaster thought he had been much closer to being dusted than ever before in his life, including the time he almost fell into the CORE itself.

When Gaster finally released all of his magic, Papyrus’s shrieking finally came full volume. The shock of it made the infant hiccup and start to cry all over again. Gaster held him tighter and bounced him gently while he hummed deep in his chest to soothe the child. It worked, after a few minutes, but Papyrus’s cries at least seemed to keep the police woman from doing more than lower her gun.

“We’ll need your statement,” She said once Papyrus had lowered in volume enough so that she could speak without yelling.

“Of course, I fully intent to cooperate,” Gaster said; and he did, now that his family was safe.

Paramedics flooded into the building as Gaster sat in the small waiting area near the front door. He let them double check Papyrus--he couldn’t help but be anxious, even knowing he had kept Papyrus safe inside of his own magical barrier. His focus had been everywhere other than Papyrus, except to keep him inside the barrier.

“He’ll be fine,” The Monster EMT offered Gaster a small smile while two more Monster EMT’s headed for the kitchen to join the original three that had gone that direction. Grannon wasn’t dead; at least, he wasn’t when he was transported through the front door beneath a fire blanket (to keep in his natural heat) with Grillby quickly following.

Gaster refused to be seen, but had to start answering questions immediately after that.

“In your own words, what were the order of events?”

Gaster felt pestered almost immediately and had to stop multiple times just to soothe Papyrus, who would alternate hiding his face in Gaster’s shirt and reaching out in the direction that Gaster knew you were being treated. He couldn’t let himself look in your direction though, or his focus would disappear completely.

It was for this reason that he nearly jumped when you suddenly cut in front of the two officers questioning him (and you ignored their protests astutely) and started to lean closer. Sans reached out for Gaster’s hold and there was a strange moment where both children wanted to stay where they were while simultaneously wanting to be held by the opposite adult.

Your answer was straightforward and simple, but didn’t stun him any less.

His eyes widened when you quickly scooped both boys from his hold and crawled into his lap. He could feel your body trembling now that you were pressed so close, and it only added to the heavy weight of his relief.

You were safe. His boys were safe. The attack was over and as far as he could tell, no one had died. Grannon was injured, but alive. He felt the sting of tears at the corner of his eyes and he also ignored the police in favor of wrapping his arms around his entire world: the boys curled up together and between you both, and you leaned close with them. Everything he cared for, everything he _loved_ , in his arms.

And didn’t that create confusion and anxiety in his soul; he didn’t bother to focus on it now. He knew there were feelings for you before now, but to have it hit him so roughly and because of such of a situation…

Gaster held the three of you tightly and thanked the stars that all three of you were safe.

The rest of the questioning went by in a daze for him, now that he felt secure in his children’s and your safety. No matter what he was asked, he simply stressed the facts. He was lucky that Gerson arrived not long after, because he could already tell the police were trying to poke holes in his story. Even though there were still humans and monsters alike stressing the facts of what happened, the two in front of him were insistent on their questions. Humans still feared magic to this degree? Gaster suddenly realized why nothing had been done about the protests that were still happening in front of his lab.

“Monsters will cooperate with any investigation you have, but my people have been attacked and they deserve to go home,” Gerson was arguing with one of the officers, and Gaster watched as the old turtle drove them back with his gruff demeanor and heavy words.

Gaster almost didn’t notice when Tillby sat next to him.

“Tillby, I thought you would be with Grannon,” Gaster said quietly, a little surprised.

“I...I have to wait for Fuku,” Tillby swallowed thickly and Gaster watched the liquid magic--so much like fire and still so much like tears that he could only watch in mute fascination as she looked from his face to you, “Can...is she…?”

Gaster gently nudged you and felt you jump when he said your name, “Zelda...Someone would like to speak with you…”

Tillby was quick to reassure you as you tensed and barely moved to look over at her, “Please, I don’t...I don’t want to pull you away…”

“Th-thank you,” Tillby said and Gaster watched both you and her tremble together, as if feeding off each other’s energies, “Thank y-you, for protecting my son.”

It almost hurt for Gaster to see tears burn in your eyes, but you wouldn’t let them fall--he realized he hadn’t ever seen you actually cry except for from laughter, when you and Sans would pun together until you both were sore from it.

“I would do it again,” Gaster pressed his mouth closed when you said that, hating the implications behind those words, “I’m glad he’s safe.”

Tillby couldn’t handle hearing it either, but she was overcome with grateful energy and wrapped all four of them in a hug--or tried to, she was such a slight elemental compared to both Grannon and even Grillby. It wasn’t until Gerson came back from talking to the police that Tillby pulled away and left them alone to talk with the old turtle monster.

“The officers will start allowing everyone to leave once they get names and contact information,” Gerson sighed and rubbed his face; Gaster suddenly thought he started looking closer to his proper age, but didn’t say it.

“Is it possible that they will misinterpret?” Gaster tried to be vague enough for the children--who were all but asleep in your arms and against your chest--but Gaster felt you perk up immediately.

“There’s no way they can pin any of this on you,” You snapped, which made Gerson jump a little, “And if they try, I’m going to flip every lid I have.”

Gerson snorted and laughed to himself, “Got a little spitfire there, huh?”

Gaster offered you a smile in return for your ferocity, but Gerson still answered honestly, “There’s always that possibility, Doc; but with this little human and all the witnesses, you won’t have much to worry about.”

Once an officer came to take his information (and yours, though Gaster noted the way your face turned sour when the officer made a note of both Sans and Papyrus’s names), Gaster shifted his grip on the three in his arms while speaking to Gerson.

“I will take my family home now, Gerson,” He said, “Unless you need anything else from us?”

“No, no; I’ll speak with you later,” Gerson looked thoughtful, even as he waved Gaster off, “Go and take a rest from this nasty business--maybe even think of keeping the lab closed tomorrow-”

“I won’t; I will not give in to those vile humans,” Gaster set his jaw firmly.

Gerson didn’t look happy, but didn’t press the matter, “Well, I’ll be in touch.”


	3. Gaster’s POV (Chapters 15-18) Part 2/3

Gaster’s arms tightened around you and you squeaked quietly when he suddenly stood. His arms held you up easily, even as your hands gripped his shirt tightly.

“Hold on, for just a moment,” Gaster spoke soothingly to you, hoping to settle you; though, he couldn’t deny that his entire focus was warring between his teleportation and the tight grip you had on his shirt.

Home had never been a more welcome sight, but Gaster was still wary. Just because the four of you were home didn’t mean all of you were safe, not yet.

Gaster placed you on the couch and let you rest with the boys; he set himself to work. First, he checked the entire house (and the backyard) to make sure there were no strangers or enemies. It was taxing and anxious work--at every turn of a door handle, he expected to find a human with ill intentions, or evidence that his home had been invaded.

He found nothing, but he didn’t relax until he summoned a few, more ancient spells. These were meant as wards and wouldn’t hold against a human, but they would warn him if a stranger entered the house. That would at least give him enough comfort to finally relax. Well, as much as he could. There was still the boys to see to, and you…

His eyes were drawn to your neck as soon as he sat next to you on the couch. Almost as quickly, his eyes were drawn away: a tear fell from your jaw and was quickly joined by another, and then another. Gaster jumped when a quiet sob broke through your lips and you held the boys closer.

Sans and Papyrus simply dozed on, but you lowered your head and leaned your jaw against Sans’s forehead. Gaster could suddenly guess what your small breakdown was about. Gaster had magic at his disposal to protect Papyrus, but you had been left vulnerable against a human twice your size. Still, he could tell that your worry hadn’t been on your own wellbeing.

His head reached out and settled on the top of your head; it was a small comforting gesture, one he often shared with his sons, but his fingers marveled at the texture of your hair and how it passed under his fingers. You jumped and shifted to look up at him.

“It would be pointless to ask if you are feeling better,” Gaster whispered the words to you, hoping you would find comfort in them, “But please know, I owe you so much for making sure Sans was safe.”

The tears bubbled into your eyes again; so he had guessed right, “B-barely.”

“You made the right decision--you put his safety above your own and I will be eternally grateful,” Despite his want to bring you comfort, he wasn’t lying. Sans was able to come retrieve him and came to no harm. He would likely suffer other things, but today’s attack could have ended much worse.

Gaster felt satisfied when you were at least able to nod your head and swallow back more tears.

“Can you help me put the children to bed? A nap for them both would do well,” Gaster felt exhausted; it wasn’t even one in the afternoon yet and still, for so much to have happened...

You allowed Sans to be taken by Gaster, and he let you hesitate on the couch for a moment while he took Sans upstairs to his room.

Sans didn’t even stir as Gaster tucked the child into bed--he did shift with a whimper when Gaster pulled the covers up to is chin, but when Gaster’s fingers lingered over Sans’s forehead, the child finally soothed and the anxious father was able to convince himself to step away and head to Papyrus’s room.

He hesitated in the doorway when he saw you still hovering over the crip, your back bend slightly and your arm still dipped into the open top. Gaster stepped forward a step and saw Papyrus’s hand wrapped firmly around your finger. The child had a knack for sensing a room and people in particular and no doubt could sense what you were feeling.

Gaster opened his mouth, but hesitated. He had said your first name twice now because of the stress of the diner, but here at home, safe and sound…

“Ms. Emmerson?”

He was happy you didn’t jump, and he witnessed Papyrus’s eyes close in quiet bliss while he drifted back to sleep; you managed to retrieve your finger and stand straight before you spoke again.

“I...I’m here,” You managed, but Gaster wondered how true that was. A part of you seemed very far away--perhaps even as far as Tillby’s.

“Please,” Gaster pressed forward and stepped behind you, “Come downstairs and I will heal you.”

“Me?” You looked up at him, confused. He supposed that made sense: you likely hadn’t had a chance to look in the mirror to see your bruises yet--and he really wanted to heal you before you got a chance.

They were an ugly purple-black and were so large and deep that he wasn’t surprised that even though you spoke quietly, you were speaking with a gravelly voice. You had been injured, to be sure: Gaster wondered if his healing would actually work well enough to take that rasp from you.

Gaster’s fingers brushed along your jaw--he didn’t want to touch the actual bruises. Humans were such an oddity in terms of injury and stamina, but the color of your skin was marred and he was almost afraid he would feel a grainy texture of dust if he were to touch those bruises now. He knew that was silly: you were human and humans didn’t work that way. Still, he was afraid.

Your reaction to his touch was visceral.

You flinched immediately, the memory of those heavy hands still too close to reality for his liking; your breath picked up and got loud enough that Gaster wondered if you would ever breathe normally again. When your hand flew to your mouth, as if you would throw up or scream, Gaster couldn’t handle the pain of seeing you in such a state. His arms wrapped around you and pulled your face against his chest. Your hands gripped his sweater and you leaned into his hold without hesitation.

He felt you tremble, and his voice was quiet as he urged you, pleaded with you, “Come.”

When you nodded, he simply stepped back and teleported the both of you into the living room. You barely seemed able to keep yourself on your feet and this was confirmed when you all but slumped down onto the couch as soon as you felt it touch the back of your knees. He only took a moment to decide to sit on the coffee table across from you and ignored the way it protested quietly under him while he settled with his knees on either side of both of yours.

Gaster had to put out a concerted effort to keep his fingers from shaking as he gently reached forward to raise your chin, “Be still; I will not harm you, Ms. Emmerson.”

The way you gave into him and let his fingers move you spoke to his soul, but he tried to ignore it. Your gravelly voice answered him, almost automatically.

“...you can call me Zelda.”

Despite the familiar air, he couldn’t respond in his usual fashion. He couldn’t even begin to try. Too much had happened, too much to think about and too much to ponder. His magic had to be controlled, but his fingers hovered over the bruises and the green light of healing began to work on the damage.

He had almost lost you. His sons had both been spared the worst possible fates, but you had nearly died. He had _watched_ you nearly die. The part that bothered him the most was that you weren’t really his to lose. You were his children’s nanny, you were in his employ, but nothing more.

And just why did that burn his soul? He wasn’t stupid, he could guess at a 100 different reasons, but all were stopped by the bare facts. You weren’t his to lose. He could admit he wanted you to be, but you were his employee. You were a human woman, one who was smart in all the ways he never considered before and more than anything today told him just how important you had become to him.

Not just for his children’s sakes, but for his own.

He could reach out and have you, but could he be that selfish? If things didn’t work between you both, would his children suffer for it?

Gaster didn’t realize how intent he had been staring at his own hands until your fingers gently slipped over his wrists. And like a light in the darkness, your touch banished the darker thoughts over his mind. His eyes locked with yours, and their deep, pooled color drew him in, just like they always did.

When your fingers brushed the spaces between his wrist bones, he shivered pleasantly beneath your touch. Gaster had to swallow whatever noise his throat had tried to make. Pleasure or surprise, he couldn’t trust himself. Instead, he forced himself to speak.

“I...haven’t hurt you, have I?” He knew he hadn’t, but words and thoughts failed him and reason had all but abandoned him.

“N...no; you’d never,” You breathed the response and Gaster found comfort and a steady place to think from the fact that the gravel was gone in your voice.

It was your words that caused the new tension in his shoulders. Of course _he_ knew that he’d never hurt you, but there was something about hearing it said by you, of the complete sure confidence of knowing you were safe with Gaster.

He could call you foolish--cite the fact that he had magic a human like yourself couldn’t even fathom, but as if your words had locked him in place, he also knew he’d never.

“I’d never,” He echoed the words, maybe to see if he could somehow bring himself back to his senses, but he was lost in your eyes and under your fingers.

“Gaster, I…” You hesitated to say more and you glanced away.

Fear pooled in his stomach as a thousand possibilities attached themselves to his mind; everything that had happened suddenly weighed over him and he was now afraid. Gaster’s focus faded with his magic and he felt your grip tighten on his wrist.

“I...I don’t have any right to ask this, after what happened today,” Gaster had to say something, had to do _something_ , “But please...dont’ leave. I couldn’t--the, the boys need you.”

_I couldn’t bear it if you left._

_I need you._

_I would be lost without you._

Any of these could have left his mouth, but they didn’t.

Your cheeks colored and a small, chiding smile turned the corner of your lips in a way that was suddenly familiar and comforting, “Leave? Gaster, why would you think I would leave?”

He could list every possibility he had imagined, but instead of answering, he let you tug him onto the couch next to you. The sudden closeness was both a comfort and a distraction, both of which he needed sorely to lift himself out of his deep pool of anxiety that he had thrown himself into. His hand rested on your shoulder while he tried to ground himself, but you didn’t seem to mind.

“An attack like this was inevitable, in retrospect,” _I should have seen this coming_ , “I should have been obvious,” _This shouldn’t have happened_ , “I shouldn’t have taken it so lightly and now this has rocked us to the core--” _The blame should be mine to bear alone, but I know my guilt will be shielded by the kindness of others_ , “--more will likely follow and it is very likely I will become a target.”

He felt you shiver under his touch, but your words at least warmed his soul, “...And what about the boys?”

You cared for his children and that helped him to admit to the things he had been trying to hide from himself.

“The boys...I...do not know what to do.”

It was hard to admit. It made him _angry_ to admit it--not at you, but at himself. The Great Doctor Gaster and he was at a complete loss at what he should do to protect his own children. He should know what to do, find any answer in his huge intellect, but...the cold truth was that he had been hiding behind his own inability to imagine the worst, his own inability to allow himself to process and deal with the harder questions and the harder emotions, and now...now he had no answers at all.

“I’m not leaving.” Your firm statement brought him back to present and he sucked in a quiet breath, “I won’t leave the boys to face this on their own--and I won’t leave you to face it alone either.”

His arms wrapped around you before he could let himself breathe again. Here you were, a pillar of strength and determination in the wake of hearing his weakness. No judgement, no nagging or wallowing, you simply saw him for what he allowed you to see.

And you were more than willing to help him pick up the pieces that he felt were slowly trying to scatter on the ground. As if you could see him falling apart and instead of simply urging him to pull himself together, you simply rolled up your sleeves and started to help him without question.

His face buried into your hair and all he wanted at this moment was to let himself have just a second to hold you. To keep you, no matter what other decisions or feelings came after. Just for a moment.

Except, he couldn’t let go. And he didn’t, not for a long time after.


	4. Chapter 4: Gaster’s POV (Chapters 15-18) Part 3/3

Gaster was thankful for the dreamless sleep that claimed him, but he didn’t realize that he had fallen asleep until a warm body shifted against his own and pulled him slowly back to consciousness.

The first thing he was aware of was the smell of honey and your shampoo. Two scents that always hung around you. Now, the smell was engulfing and possessive, wrapped around him in a cloak of comfort.

When the warm body shifted again, Gaster forced himself to focus.

He was holding you in his arms while the two of you laid tightly together on the couch in the living room. It was dark out and even his usually infallible internal clock was at a loss for just what time it could possibly be. Gaster felt you shift again and watched as you stared at his chest with half-lidded eyes. You had obviously just woken up, and you mind was miles away.

“...are you alright?” Gaster breathed the words quietly; he felt as if he would break the quiet peace of the house if he spoke too loud. Your body pressed against his, both of you tangled so intimately on the couch, made his cheeks burn with a purple light.

You jumped a little at his question, but you answered him in the same tone and whisper, “I’m better. Not quite…’alright’, yet, but better.”

That was a relief; a relief and a distraction from the position the two of you tangled into on the couch. You were pressed back into the cushions and against his chest, while he could feel himself on the edge of the cushions. It was a marvel that he hadn’t fallen off, but your arms were firmly around his ribcage and both of your legs were tangled together.

“Please, keep Sans home from school this week,” Gaster was grasping at straws, trying not to focus on how warm your body was, pressed against his, or the way your legs wrapped tightly around his. Or how his knee was pressed against the apex of your thighs, “The boy will try to hide what he is feeling, and I…”

“I understand,” You said, and he believed you.

“Papyrus,” You shifted as he spoke and his voice tightened while he forced himself to focus, “...will likely not remember anything as he grows, but…”

“Your children are safe,” You whispered, “I’ll make sure of it, and I’ll help them and love them with everything I have.”

His whole body was warring with his self-control. He wanted to kiss, you, to hold you tighter, to teleport you upstairs and claim you. It was more than just his own want and desire. Hearing you care for his children, hearing just how much you loved them and wanted what was best for them...Suddenly, it was like the two of you were in a bubble and the outside world didn’t matter.

The terrorist attack, the responsibilities, repercussions, any of it. They were outside, and the two of you were inside, untouchable.

You leaned forward and rested your forehead against his chin and his soul grew warm in his chest.

“...Thank you,” He murmured, “I...don’t know how I would have handled this alone.”

Gaster had never felt so comfortable to be so vulnerable before. It wasn’t like his candid talks with Toriel or Asgore: this was deeper, more open, terrifying...and yet, he felt no reservations. This, he gave to you freely.

“Don’t sell yourself short,” You soothed, trying to tease; he could hear the thick emotion in your voice though, “You’re Dr. W. D. Gaster--you’ll probably deal with this better than me in the long run.”

He didn’t want to let you go, so he conjured one of his magical hands and let his fingers drag gently over your jaw before cupping it and slowly tilting your head back.

“Then let us rest on each other,” He hummed quietly, “I will lean on your strengths and you lean onto mine.”

“Don’t forget to take breaks, too.”

Gaster couldn’t stop the short chuckle from leaving his throat, “Yet another reason I need you.”

And he meant it.

When your eyes locked onto his, he realized you heard exactly what he meant. Your grip on his shirt tightened, your body pressed a little closer.

“Ms. Emerson, I…” Gaster could play it off with his next words. He could end it now and let the two of you lapse back into professionalism, he could-

“Zelda,” You corrected him and he felt your breath in his face.

“...” Eons passed in a moment and his soul chose for him, “Zelda.”

Gaster pulled you closer and when your lips touched his mouth, he was gone. The heavy heat between you both grew and his was trapped by you, _encapsulated_ by you; his entire world shrank to this moment: to you, and him, and nothing else.

His fingers tangled in your hair and he groaned into your mouth. Hot, sticky sensations built up in his chest and he felt his magic begin to respond to your touch. You moaned and reached for his neck; your fingers felt heavenly and he felt drunk off of you.

Suddenly, his body moved; you were beneath him on the couch. His face hovered over yours and he watched you greedily gasp for air. Here, he hesitated. Your eyes darted between his and your fingers clutched at his sweater and neck, as if holding back from pulling him in again.

You both floated in eternity while he drank in your beauty and the addictive smell of your desire. You licked your lips and opened your mouth.

“Gaster, please-”

“dad?”

And just like that, the bubble popped and reality drowned him. His body tensed and without realizing it, he teleported. This fact was brought to violent light when his hands and knees suddenly landed on the hardwood of the floor, a little distance away from the couch.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see you sit up onto your elbows, watching him; but he didn’t dare focus on your expression. He ran away so suddenly, there couldn’t be much more than perhaps annoyance or hurt.

“What is it, Sans?” Gaster sat back on his heels so he could see over it. Sans and Papyrus both were out of bed, with Sans holding his younger brother tightly. Both looked on the verge of a breakdown.

“paps was havin a nightmare and...so was i,” Sans admitted quietly, and Gaster’s soul clenched tightly.

You, ever the caring and supportive person that you were, were already moving toward the boys to see what they needed. However, both boys almost seemed to shy away from you and quickly moved toward him instead.

Gaster’s eyes glanced up at you once, and he didn’t like what he saw: you looked _lost_. Or, maybe more at a loss; and Gaster couldn’t blame you. Gaster loved both of his children without question, but he wasn’t the nurturing kind. You gave them that in spades, but it was him they now clung to.

That look on your face didn’t linger. It was gone moments later when you turned and headed into the kitchen with obvious purpose. Gaster couldn’t be sure what you were doing, but he still chose to lift both his children and sit all three of them into the armchair.

Papyrus settled under one of his arms immediately and began to hiccup quietly while bright orange tears slowly fell down his prominent cheeks. Sans crawled up until his head was buried into Gaster’s shoulder, but Gaster could tell he was holding himself back.

The child quaked under his touch and Gaster closed his eyes tightly. Now, more than ever, he could see what you had been saying; not that he had ever really disagreed with you, but Sans was a laid-back child. He never asked for anything and could logically follow most any reasoning Gaster put in front of him. More than that, though, Gaster could now see the way Sans was burying his emotionalism. If he were an adult, Gaster wondered if he would think twice about this behaviour, but as his child, his 6-year-old child…

It was just another harrowing thought to add to his growing pile of worries and stresses.

Six years ago, the idea of bringing a child into the world seemed like the easiest decision he had ever made. Sans was a joy, and added so much to his life; even with Sans’s unique challenges, Gaster never thought twice about such a decision.

The fact was, he had done it again, a year ago. Papyrus brought his own brand of unique to every situation, including challenges and problems, but even up until recently, Gaster never questioned himself, or his own motives. Just what had been his purpose? To have a family, yes, but could he really say he understood what he had been signing up for all those years ago?

More than that, could he really continue to blinding move forward, now that you had placed a spotlight onto him and his relationships with his children? Certainly, you hadn’t been meaning to bring forth these questions, but it had been a sure side effect.

You loved his children, plain and simple. And in doing that simple act, he was able to witness his own shortcomings and misunderstandings. He couldn’t say he had the correct motives, or even actions, up to this point. Still, he thought he might be able to start correcting them, if you were there to help.

As if summoned by his conclusion, your voice suddenly broke his pensive state.

“Come into the kitchen,” You said quietly, and gently touched Gaster’s shoulder. Gaster didn’t tense or jump, but he did look up at you quietly for more than a few moments, “I think we all need a drink in our stomachs...please?”

Your voice dropped a little when you added ‘please’, and it spurred Gaster to finally tear himself away from his musings. The boys were slight weights in his arms as he stood and followed you into the kitchen; Gaster had a thought to put the boys in their rightful places, but decided that he couldn’t quite let go of them yet. This morning at Tillby’s was still hanging in the air, just outside of their windows; like a wolf, waiting to jump in and take them all again.

So instead, Gaster settled in his usual place and let the boys relax on his lap while you disappeared behind him to retrieve whatever you had made. When you returned, Papyrus was the first to react and Gaster saw why immediately: one of the drinks you grabbed was obviously for Papyrus, since it was in a bottle.

The infant squirmed and reached for the drink, but you only smiled warmly and offered it to him quickly. The next cup went to Sans and Gaster felt himself smile gently as he saw which cup you had chosen.

It was also his first glimpse at the warmed drink: it was obviously milk, but he could smell cinnamon and honey, as well as brewed tea. He wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it, even as he watched you put his own mug onto the table where he could reach it easily.

He watched both of his boys settle immediately as soon as they took their first sips, and he could feel both of their souls start to settle soon after. He had never seen something work so quickly at soothing his children before.

Once you sat down with your own mug, he finally reached for his own. He noted how you kept your eyes down, looking intently at the contents of your own mug; every once in a while, your eyes would dart to the same place on the table, as if you could see something invisible sitting there.

Gaster wondered if you were thinking of the couch. He knew that was where his mind was straying to, and insistently to boot. He had never thought to have feelings for an employee before. As the Royal Scientist, he’d had hundred under him in his time in the position and never once had he let himself cross the line; never even felt the temptation.

Now, he was having a hard time realizing that he just...didn’t see you as an employee at all. It was exactly like he had said so easily to Gerson earlier that day: everyone at this table now was family. Now if only that didn’t confuse and complicate his feelings more.

Gaster finally tilted his cup back and hummed as he finally understood why Sans and Papyrus were now soothed.

If alcohol was liquid courage, than whatever was in his cup was liquid comfort. It warmed him all the way down to his bones and soothed his soul. The swirling emotions, fears, worries, realities faded to gray and he was able to just be present. To be here, with his sons and with you.

And it certainly helped him forget about the incident on the couch, at least for now.

He was so soothed, he nearly didn’t notice as Papyrus wiggled until he slid from his father’s lap. Gaster helped the child stand, but the moment his hand was away from Papyrus’s body, the toddler pushed away from the chair and took a step.

If it weren’t for Sans’s sudden grip on his sleeve, Gaster would have reached out to pull the boy back. A fall was only one extra thing on top of the pile today, but Sans’s touch stilled him and both watched silently as Papyrus took another confident step.

Almost instantly, Gaster’s mind was back to your own chiding hypothesis that you had made only weeks ago:

_“You know, I think I’m onto your game, bittybones; I bet it’ll just take one more sour day in this house and you’ll be walking.”_

At first, he wondered if it was the attack itself that spurred this on, but Gaster watched in silent awe as Papyrus toddled his way around the table and toward you. It was then that he noticed something was indeed wrong.

Your aura, usually so bright with your color, was faded and nearly gray. And not the bright lively gray that was usually associated with Monster souls. No, this was dark and muddled and sent a chill up his spine. Some of his Monster colleagues theorized this color was associated with depression, or even the overshadowing of a traumatic event or darker thoughts. It was certainly something to be concerned about.

Except that the moment you noticed Papyrus walking toward you, your color began to brighten again.

You hiccuped and for the second time that day, Gaster watched you begin to cry. Papyrus was scooped up into your lap and you whispered in a voice that sounded so broken:

“Oh, bittybones…”

Papyrus settled into your hold and continued to drink from his bottle serenely, but Gaster watched in quiet fascination as Papyrus--sweet, innocent Papyrus--was able to bring the glow of your color back. Gaster realized that Papyrus, in his own way, was comforting you. Maybe it was a shared energy he couldn’t sense, or he simply knew what you needed without even understanding what was going on. Either way, you were responding; you kissed the top of Papyrus’s skull and tried to wipe tears away, only to give up when it was obviously a losing battle.

Gaster and Sans already knew a little about how Papyrus could simply read their moods without trying. More than once, Gaster theorized that Papyrus could simply see the aura of a person, even though it took an adult Monster years to learn such a skill. Neither could deny what they were witnessing though: you two of you were bonding silently.

Sans was already smiling like this morning never happened. Gaster felt a little like maybe it hadn’t.

Of course, he knew this wasn’t something that could go away just because their small family had managed to reach a new level of closeness--and he knew you wouldn’t be so naive to think it as well--but for a moment, it was good to bask in the warmth of the kitchen and in the comfort that washed each of them.

You had been right after all, Gaster thought: you all needed the drink.


End file.
